Come on Home
by GluttonousAnorexiaNervosa
Summary: Set in the Near Past, after Martha but before Donna when Ten is all alone and looking for stuff and things. He happens across a young American who hasn't learned how to say "I'm from Canada" correctly. Adventures ensue.
1. The First Chapter

**Disclaimer** I do not own the Doctor. He is his own man, after all. If I did, it would be slavery, and then I would have to explain to the world how I owned a character and they would have to explain to me that he does not technically exist and it would just get all messy.

She checked her cheap watch, shook it, held it to her ear, and looked at it again, before giving up completely. She debated about throwing it away, but decided not to when she remembered with a pang that it was one of the last things she had bought before leaving home and everything she had known. She stood at the crosswalk debating the case of scruples she had just developed.

'_If I really cared about home, I would call them more than once in…never_,' she scolded herself.

_'But, on the other hand, if I could afford the international call, then I would_,' another voice countered. A mental image of her small family farm nestled beside a narrow ribbon of a creek came unbidden to her mind, but she forced it aside and crossed the street with the crowd around her, blending in with the businessmen and women. She only blended in when she kept her mouth shut, and didn't point out that she was from the States and not a native. After two years she still did not remember to say 'aluminium' or 'no, I'm from Canada' correctly. She sighed, with despair written all over her face.

"Erm, miss?" someone asked her, and she jumped, realizing that she had just been standing on the other side of the street, staring at her hand which held her dead watch over a bin. The man was looking at her, anxiously. "You know," he started slowly, "it is only just a watch. You do not have to look so distressed about it." She looked at him, and felt a smile cross her face.

Suddenly embarrassed, she dropped the watch into the can. "I am sorry, I just was thinking and I guess I got lost in my own mind. It happens, more often than I would like to admit."

"Oh, it is okay," he lifted his chin and gave her a sideways look. "Say, as they say on the other side of the pond," he dropped into a gravely but spot-on John Wayne, "Yer not from aron'd here, are you?"

"No, I'm not, I'm from—" she stopped for a second, thinking. "I mean, I'm…Canada." She winced inwardly.

He looked skeptical. "You are… Canada? I did not realize that Canada was so small and petite. I was always under the impression it was a large, corpulent man," he gestured to emphasis how large. "No, wait, that's Russia," he mused.

She was thoroughly abashed now, and started looking for escape routes. She hefted her case she was carrying. He noticed and, thinking he had offended her, dropped his hands and looked at the broken watch on top of the old news papers and half eaten sandwiches. "Hey, you know, I know something about watches. I can fix it for you."

"What, fix that old thing? It is not important, just a piece of plastic I bought at Walmart years ago. It is not exactly a Rolex, I can get a new one."

"Did you buy it in Canada?" He scrutinized the face of the timepiece. "Tell you what, how about we walk to this little café thing down the street here, and I guarantee that this watch will work by the time we get there. Deal?" He held out his arm for her. She reluctantly placed her arm in the nook of his elbow, and walked with him. A half second later he moved his arm and pulled something out of his jacket pocket. She dropped her arm and felt rather foolish.

'_Why are you sticking to this rude little man, exactly_?' she asked herself. She studied him while pretending to watch traffic. He was taller than her, but long and lithe. He was smartly dressed, and was wearing sneakers. ( '_Sneakers, really? What are you trying to prove?_' ) His face was angular, he had a slight pout, and thought lines creased across his forehead as he concentrated on the small device in his hands. That was when she realized what he had got out of his pocket.

"I am not certain how a small flashlight is going to help you fix my watch, mister…"

"Doctor…"

"Mister Doctor."

"No, just… hey… is that a joke?"

"Yes, it is a joke. I am capable of making jokes to, you know."

He grinned. "And I here I thought all 'Canadians' were cold hard people." He flicked the penlight into the air and tucked it into his pocket. "Here we go, your watch, as good as new." He handed it to her as though it was the most delicate crystal. She took it from him and gasped. "I did not know that it told the day of the week!"

He raised an eyebrow. She swallowed and laughed. "I-I mean, I just thought it was telling me that everyday would be SUNny, you see."

He appraised her. "So is every day sunny?" He asked, suddenly serious.

She looked down at herself and blushed. She was in every way orange where he was blue; Bert to his Ernie. While he was wearing a nice gazillion-piece suit, she was wearing clean but very worn jeans, an old band t-shirt that read 'NIRVANA In Utero' with the winged woman in the middle, a jacket with frayed cuffs, and an old hat pulled down over her short-cropped hair. To her own eyes she looked ragged, and impish. '_Maybe I do not blend in as well as I thought_,' a wistful voice in her head sighed.

"How about this," he said, breaking her mental reverie. She noticed that they were at the outdoor café he had mentioned. She was a little unnerved how easily she was spacing out all of a sudden. "I shall get us something to eat, and you tell me what you are doing here, so very far from home."

"Oh, but, I have to go, I am late, and you have already spent enough time on me," she stammered. "It was nice meeting you, but really, I am late." She turned quickly, and felt his hand on her shoulder.

"Please, just stay for a minute? Five minutes. Well, Four minutes annnnnd…"he looked over her shoulder at her watch. "37 seconds. That is all I ask." She shrugged his hand off.

"I am really sorry, I am. I have a.. a gig to get to." She indicated the case she was carrying.

"Oh, a musician! What instrument do you play?" He asked, trying to keep her with him in an obvious way.

She lifted the guitar-shaped container, "Well, its big and has a neck.. so… obviously, I play the flute." He tipped his head back and laughed. She turned away.

"Wait! Where are you playing?" he asked.

"Oh, just this little place, you would have never heard of it," she said, without turning back to him, "See you around, Mr. Doctor." She went down the steps into the nearest underground entrance, leaving him standing beside a café table, with a knowing look on his face, clearly understanding her better than she thought.


	2. Chapter the Second

She flew down the stairs to the station below ground, praying that she did not wipe anyone out with her guitar case while deriding herself out loud. "I knew I should have got down here sooner. I missed the first rush. 'oh look at the birds, they are so nice' I said, but watching the birds doesn't get food in your stomach. 'Oh, lets get charmed by the rude guy who fixed my watch.' Idiot! Hopefully there will be tourists out, wanting to ride the famous Underground…," she rounded a corner and slowed down. "…And hopefully I get there before someone else has my spot. "

In front of her stood a skinny man with long oily hair playing a violin. He sneered at her and then quickly turned a happy smile that still spoke of deep pain towards a man and a woman walking by. It clearly worked, since the woman elbowed the man in the ribs, and he dropped a few coins into the violinist's open case. She stood transfixed until they walked by, and his scowl quickly returned. "Hey, get out of here, I have been here for two hours and I am not moving yet." He glanced down into his case and continued. "Look there, some woman even gave me an old gold ring," he gloated, enjoying himself a little too much. "Going to go get my clothes washed and eat a huge meal in some nice restaurant with that." He looked back at another pedestrian, who had stopped to listen. "Go on," he snarled under his breath. "Go on and beg for your money elsewhere, if you cannot get here at a decent time then you do not deserve to live." She sighed and looked around fruitlessly for somewhere else to play before she turned around back up the stairs in defeat.

He stood at the entrance, leaning against the railing, but she would have missed him if he had not called out, so deep was her gloom.

"Hey, Canada! Now why do you look so down? Did you miss your train to your gig?"

She sighed again. "Great, you again, Mister Sarcastic-as-Hell. I so missed you."

He grinned. "That's Doctor Sarcastic-as-Hell." She kept walking on past him. "Oy, now, where are you going, your next concert hall?"

She whirled around on him. "I am going to another station. Hyde Park is too crowded, so I am thinking about Green Park, even though it is too late and I have missed all the rush. So I might go on to the river and jump in, and employ someone in the recovery of my body and trying to identify me. I bet someone could spend a couple of days on my case before they gave up. I could pay for some investigator's spoiled son's next game system," she kicked a phone booth on the side of the street in her anger. The man winced like she had kicked him, but had enough tact to not say anything. She went on like she did not notice. "Oh, and do not forget the person doing the autopsy, they would have to spend a few hours on my body, trying to figure out what this street urchin was on to make her think she could fly, or what disturbing behavior she was finally sick of and had to end it all. And what will they find!?" She hefted her case. "What will they find but-but--!" the words seemed to stick in her throat. She got choked on her words and in her frustration, made to smash her guitar against the cement.

He stepped in and took it from her hands before it connected to the ground. She was too furious to notice the speed and deft movement. He placed the case on the ground, held her wrists loosely, looking at her hands. "Well, I imagine they will find calluses, for one…"

She tore her arms out of his grasp and started to sob. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder protectively, picked up her case like it was nothing, and led her over to the café.

"Uhm, bring us two waters, please? Oh, and a towel, if you would. Thanks," The waiter looked at the crying woman beside the calm Doctor, and turned around to go back into the restaurant. He came out a moment or two later to find her gasping and wiping her eyes with her sleeves while the man was talking quietly to Docter nodded his thanks, wet a corner of the old towel and gave it to her. She nodded her thanks and wiped her face, holding the towel over her red eyes.

After a minute or two she pulled it away from her face and sighed, looking a little worse for wear, but less murderous. "I feel like a fool, now," she said with a thick voice as she picked up her glass for a sip. "I cannot believe I broke down like that in front of a complete stranger." She continued, her voice stronger now.

"Well," he started, looking at the people walking by on the sidewalk. "I am not a complete stranger, am I?"

She thought for a moment. "Well-ll-llll… we met once about a half hour ago, but we do not know each other names, and are not exactly inviting the other to our weddings, are we?" He laughed.

"You know my name, I told you, I'm the Doctor. And you are Canada, remember?"

She seemed unimpressed. "Riiight. I forgot, Canada. I shall write home and tell my mother she named me incorrectly, that some man named 'Doctor' says it is so." She began to worry a paper napkin through her fingers. After a moments pause, "So, is it too late to take you up on your offer of a free lunch?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Not at all, just, are you sure it will fit into your busy concert schedule?"

She barked a bitter laugh and took another drink of her water. "Yeah, I think I can find the time."

He looked at her. "How did you get here?"

"Well," she screwed her face up in thought, reflecting. "if I remember correctly, I walked here with you." She avoided his gaze.

"Now, seriously. How did a smart American girl like you end up homeless and playing for spare change in London? You are going to get hurt, if you have not already, and end up even worse." He paused, "However, I cannot imagine it gets much worse than being homeless here." He shivered slightly. "So, start at the beginning, and do not end until you get to 'and then this mysterious but handsome man fixed my watch.'"

She fished an ice cube out of her glass with a long skinny finger and sighed, suddenly looking and feeling years older than her birth certificate said.

And then she started to talk.


	3. The Chapter Three

"So, my name is Kierra James. I am old enough that if I was at home, I could smoke and buy porn and vote for the next president to abuse their power and congressman to pass lame laws to line their own pockets. I fit in with everyone back there so not-well that as soon as I could I used my almost-expired passport that my grandmother made me get so I could take her down to Acapulco for her bucket list," She stopped and looked him in the eyes. "And I got the hell out."

She leaned back in her chair. "I started out alright, I mean, I did have a plan. I worked all summer and applied to a college over here. I got accepted and went for a semester, but ran out of money and ambition rather quickly. Grandmom kicked her bucket and left me with some cash, but not enough, and I ended up spending it on my one sole possession that I still have…" she looked at her banged up but still whole guitar case, "one last thing."

"But everything went bad. My parents were fighting, as is normal, but then Dad ran off with some buxom woman half his age, which was not so normal, and I could not handle the pain that mom was giving me through her phone calls and letters. I felt betrayed; I flunked out of school I was in such a bad place, and had to try and get a job. But nobody wants to hire an unqualified underage American around here, which makes sense. So, here I am. I could go home, but what to? My mom's accusations that my absence is what drove them apart? My shame at not even completing a whole year of university? No… I stay here, until my Passport expires and your government finds me and sends me home or to prison or wherever, and I will not mind too terribly, as long as I can look forward to three squares a day." She realized that the napkin she had in her hands was completely reduced to a pile of feathery refuse. She was also aware that he was looking at her, and felt embarrassed under his scrutiny. He did not say anything for a while, and she was starting to feel like she was going to crack under the pressure when he sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth and let it out with a whistle.

"Oooee… that is quite… well…" she looked up sharply.

"Am I right, are you at a loss for words? That does not appear to happen often." He gave her a look. "Oh, hey," she exclaimed as the waiter came carrying their sandwiches. "Food! Thank goodness."

"When did you last eat?" he asked.

She bit off a large piece and thought as she chewed. "Well," she started, then realized she was being rude and swallowed. "Well, I go to a local shelter a couple times a week. They take pretty good care of me. I can get my clothes washed, they even have a lock box where I have some of my little things that I do not want to lose, it is pretty amazing, really." She glanced up at him and looked back down quickly. "I- I guess it was the night before last?" He sighed and shook his head. She thought she heard him say 'humans' under his breath, but could not be certain. Suddenly aware that it had been a largely one-sided conversation, she felt indignant. "So, hey, what about you, sir?"

His eyes opened wide in shock. "What _about _me?"

"Well, what brings you here, asking me all these questions, what's your name, what was your first pet's name, et cetera?"

He went on the defensive. "Well, I told you, my name is the Doctor. And my first pets name was Kal-El."

"Oh, a Superman fan, then?"

"No, no. I suggested that name to him, not the other way around."

She blinked. "Oh, wow… uhm… okay then."

"Would you like the other half of my sandwich?"

"Oh! Yes, please, if you do not want it, that is."

"No, go ahead and take it. In fact, I must be off."

She awwwed loudly. "But we were just talking. You did not answer any of my questions."

He stood up and was putting his jacket back on, which had been hanging over the back of the chair. "I would hurry up and get back to your gigging. Your fans are waiting." He shrugged the jacket on and pointed in the direction of the stairs underground. "I think if I were you, I would go over to Westminster. There may be some tourists over that way." He dug into his pocket and brought out a wad of cash, which he placed on the table. "Pay for the meal with this, and go ahead and keep the change." He started to turn away, but stopped and turned back, digging into a different pocket. "And, here, keep this, as well." He handed her a large coin."See you around sometime." She almost put the money into her pocket when she noticed that the last coin was like none she had seen before. She held it close to her face, looking at the foreign emblem on it. "Hey, where is this from? I do not recognize the—" she looked up, but he was gone. She stood up and looked around, but did not see his retreating back in either direction.

"Huh. He is… totally… gone." She stuffed the sandwich into her mouth. "What a jerk."


	4. The TwototheSecondPower Chapter

She fingered the coins in her pocket, looking at the train schedule. She could feel the violinists eyes boring into her back. She saw him when she walked down, sitting with an empty case and a broken string on his instrument. She jingled her coins especially loudly as she strolled by, and rubbed her belly appreciatively while she was standing looking at the map, . 'I could use the money to go somewhere new, and turn over quite a profit. But where…' she worried her lip over her teeth. She really had no idea where to go, so she did the scientific thing.

She closed her eyes and struck the map with her extended index finger. She opened an eye to see where she hit. She cursed quietly under her breath, when she realized she struck a point outside of the map. She shook her head and tried it again. She peeked again, wishing, and saw she did hit somewhere. And was relieved when she saw ----HWARK poking out from under her nail. "Right," she said, squaring her shoulders and hefting her case. "Southwark it is." She rode the Jubilee line over, thinking of songs.

When she got there she found nothing short of a three piece mariachi band who were doing Disco covers. She could not stand the noise, and wondered how that was possible. 'This was the worst idea I ever had.' She thought glumly. Her jingling was nearly nonexistent, so emaciated that she could not afford to get back to her usual place. 'Well…' she looked at the map. "I can get back to Westminster… might have luck there. Should have gone there first… like he suggested." She sighed. "I just hate too do whatever people tell me to do. 'Kierra, go to school and become a dentist.' 'Kierra, you should marry that nice boy with the loaded parents.' Blather blather blather…" she waited for the next train and got on.

Westminster was strangely silent, with few people milling around, and those were leaving quickly. She checked her watch and saw much to her dissatisfaction that it was well into the night. 'Maybe there will be… oh… who am I kidding. There will be nobody here.' She threw her jacket onto the floor and sat on it, setting her guitar down in front of her. She toyed with the latch for a bit, thinking of something to do.

She did not realize that she fell asleep until she had slid sideways and her head tapped the floor. Her eyes flew open as she gasped, and held her hand to her temple. Her guitar was laying across her legs, and her case was sitting open beside her, with a pitying quid sitting in the bottom, that some touched person threw in on a whim, in order to make their conscious feel better. She blinked her eyes and stretched, looking around. The clock on the board above the platform said 11:56 PM. 'oh, joy.' She thought.

She was certain she had just imagined it, at first. Then the second time she was less certain. She tightened her grasp of her guitar with one hand and reached out for her money with the other. 'okay… so there is someone hiding in the underground. No person at the booth. And one homeless girl. Sounds lovely.' She pocketed the change, while listening to her own breathing. Suddenly, the heavy breathing of someone running came to her. She saw in the darkness ahead of her, movement, then the darkness was charging her. She yelped as she rose to her feet. "Hey, you freak! I have no money, you see? So get the fuck out." Her assailant stopped for a second, tilted their head, then suddenly broke out into a lumbering run. "Oh, you asked for it," she said, and drew back her guitar.

Her attacker wavered to the side minutely but straightened out and continued right to her. It lept as she swung. "I SAID," she yelled as her guitar connected with flesh. "GET THE FUCK OUT!" she stood over the form and swung again. Presently it was a still form, stunned. She wondered for a second, panting. "Who gets knocked out so easily?"

"A Flamboyant Locke." A voice behind her said. She jumped and swung herself and her guitar. "UMPF!"

She gasped. "Oh my god!" she said to the Doctor, crumpled up at her feet. "I am just.. Oh my god!" she tried to help him up.

"It is… okay… no… really… sokay…." He gritted out. "No… worr…worries…." He pointed behind her. "But please… just… use your…. Power… of… persuasion… to keep… that one here… alright?" She turned and saw the person crawling away.

"Oh, you think I should…" she started, and flexed her arm.

"Yes, I think you should. Now would be the optimal time."

"Right, its just.. well, you know… kind of rude—"

"SWING ALREADY!"

"Oh, right, yes, yeah.." she smacked the body of the guitar down on its skull, as a crack resounded around the platform.

"Oh good job! Did you crack its skull?" he asked.

"No… I cracked my guitar, instead." She held up the splinted instrument. "I am no professional or anything, but I think it might be beyond repair. Just saying." She set it down gingerly. "But the real question is, " she wiped her fingers on her shirt. "What the hell is going on?"

He sighed as he rubbed his ribs. "Its… complicated."

"Well, I have just lost my only means of supporting myself, so I have loads of time. So enlighten me."

"Alright then." He started unbuttoning his vest. "First off, thanks very much for helping me apprehend that thing. It has been bugging me for weeks. I could see it on my scanner, but it would not approach me." He leaned against the wall and slid down, groaning slightly, as he loosened his tie. "You were indispensable, truly."

She watched him as he unbuttoned his shirt. "How was I so helpful, then? I just smacked it.. him with my guitar."

He paused for a second. "Well, you took my bait. It could not resist my scent on that memory device. Ah, look what you did, I'm already bruising!" He touched his reddened side. She swung back and kicked him in the ribs. "HEEEY!" he gasped. "What was that for?!"

"You used me as bait!" she made to kick him again, but he scrambled out of her reach.

"Now, hold on, hold on."

"You could have endangered me! I wandered unsuspectingly into a trap and you allowed me to!"

He stood with his hands in the air, index fingers raised. "Hold on, now, you brought yourself here. I just was looking for that thing, you did not have to help." She advanced on him. "Besides! That thing is nearly harmless. Just been messing with my readings. It does not belong here and I wanted to take it home. But it is confused and would not allow me to capture it. I needed someone to help me, there was no danger. Do you think I would endanger people knowingly?" She paused for a second.

"Why do you keep calling this person a thing?" she asked.

"Ah, we have been paying attention. " He straightened up out of his defensive position. "Very observant, for a human. Kinda." He indicated the prone figure on the ground. "That, is no person, but an extraterrestrial visitor." She raised an eyebrow. "Well, go ahead and look, if you do not believe me. Go on, look."

She turned and looked down. The person did not look too threatening, in fact, it was not threatening at all, all sprawled out like it was. She knelt down slowly, but its face was hidden in shadow.

"Here, take this." He stood behind her and gave her his light. She fumbled with the switch, and shined it onto its face. She shrieked and dropped the light, and tried to scramble away. He caught her and held her in an embrace, as she struggled against him.

"Let me go, just let me go, will you! Let me… just…" a sob ripped up her throat, and she buried her face into his shoulder, the shock sending her into tears. He made reassuring noises in her ear as he looked down at the illuminated face of the alien. "Well, that is pretty hideous, even I have to admit," he commented.

After a few minutes she recovered and pulled away from him. He looked down at her. "Do you want to chance another look, or are you set?" She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, holding it for a second. Then she snapped them open and nodded her head.

"Let me see it again. It could still be a trick, some elaborate scheme of yours."

He chuckled. "No, not any scheme of mine. That part isn't anyway." He knelt down with her. "here, we shall look together." She knelt down beside him and looked again.

The face, she supposed it was, was, well.. "alien." The Doctor whispered in her ear. " A Flamboyant Locke, to be exact." It had several eyes scattered across an oval that served as its head. "These things here," he pointed at a pair of orange slits towards the middle, "they are used for getting nourishment. And this," he indicated a gash towards the top, "is apparently where you hit it the first time. Right on its nose-analog-thing. Pretty good hit, actually. Couldn't have done better myself. Is that enough on the anatomy lesson?" he asked lightly, and in answer she turned her face back into his shoulder. "I guess that is a yes… fair enough." He helped her to her feet.

"Doctor, can I ask something?" She said softly. "Why were you looking for that? What is it doing here? How do you know so much about it, this… whatever you called it."

"Hey, I thought you said something. One thing. Slow down a bit." He was digging in his pockets for something. "Your second question first. I have no idea how it got here, but I know that it needs to go. First question next, I was not looking for it, I knew where it was the whole time. Just like this," he announced when he pulled yet another silly looking gadget out of his pocket. "and your third question… because I know everything." He pulled a length of string out of the end of the item, making her gasp. "This is a superconductor field emulator. It is not really there, and so it is completely unbreakable." He grinned as he started to truss up the alien. "Look, I gave you a freebie on that one. I am just full of gifts today. Here we go, onwards to my ship, and home with you, you old Lockey you." He smiled, and threw the creature over his shoulder. He started walking away, leaving her standing alone. He did not turn around, but yelled back.

"So are you coming or what?"

She looked around her at the dingy platform, to her broken guitar and empty case, then at the retreating back of the Doctor. She knelt down, picked up her jacket, and ran after him, thinking, what the hell, why not? What do I have to lose?

**Author's Note: **I made up the Flamboyant Locke. I had the Flamboyant part all ready, and I went to Wikipedia and clicked 'random article' althought I have now forgotten what the article was. It was not John Locke, if you were wondering.


	5. Thes chapterus Fiveus

They climbed the stairs out of the station, out into the early morning air. "Well, I need to get this guy to my ship before we attract too much attention. Would you like to accompany me?"

"Your ship? You've got a.. a space ship?" She asked, incredulous.

"Uh, well, you could call it that, but that is kind of limiting. That would be like calling toast, bread. Oh, toast… that sounds good."

He rubbed his stomach, realized that his shirt was still unbuttoned, and gasped. "How did I do that?"

"How did you hide a space ship in the city?" she asked.

"Oh that part was easy. The real question is how did I walk the last couple blocks out here in the early morning air and not notice my chest was cold?" he folded in on himself. "I feel so vulnerable," he whispered. She snorted, then stepped in front of him, and buttoned up his top button.

"There you go, less vulnerable?"

He nodded his thanks, and shifted his load. "Yes, much better. Crisis diverted, lets continue on.

She kept walking beside him, when suddenly she crinkled her brow. "was that…"

He nodded his head. "Yes, it was."

She blinked. "I have never seen that before."

He chuckled quietly to himself. "Well, here we are," he said, before any more talk about his physique. "Would you hold on a second? I have to stow this guy somewhere right quick." He skipped off around the corner. She stood there for a moment, a little dazed, and realized where she was at.

"How did you know, Doctor?" she wondered under her breath. She was outside of the shelter that she went to every week. She looked at the entrance of the alley where he had just disappeared, then back at the lit front entrance.

"So now the question is…" he said quietly behind her, "what are you going to do now?" He pulled her around to face him. "You can stay here and continue this existence, or you can come with me. It will be dangerous, but I can give you food, at least." He looked up the street suddenly. Her gaze followed his, to a drunken bearded man who was stumbling their way. "If you come with me, I can protect you to the best of my ability," he continued, then grinned and stretched himself to his full height. "Which, if I do say so myself, is the best anyone in the universe can do." He held out his hand. "What do you say, Kierra James?"

She looked at his hand, then back at the man ambling towards them. She could hear him talking to himself now. Without hesitating, she placed her hand in the Doctors. He grinned again. "Goood. C'mon." He led her across the street.

"How did you know that this is where my stuff is?"

"Well, it was easy, you told me, didn't you?" He responded matter-of-factly. "now, what do you have to do? Do you have a key or something?"

"Yeah, I do its at the desk. But," she stopped, thinking about how he would take what she was going to say. "I think that… you should.. stay here." She squinted and waved her arms around. "I mean, I do not need to go in and get my stuff with a strange but well dressed man with me. They will think you are my pimp or something." He scoffed.

"I am way better dressed than any pimp."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, an action he would cause her to repeat many times. "Just, stay here, okay? I will be back out in five minutes."

He nodded and leaned against the wall. She bounced over to the door and went inside. Over to the desk, say "I'm Kierra James, lockbox 24." Get the key, get in, grab her stuff—"Geez, I forgot about this stack of pictures. And my cd's! Why the hell did I keep these? And my class ring! I forgot..no, wait. This is my last American boyfriend's class ring. Must have thought I could sell it. Still can, I suppose. Oh, and my old dead cell phone!" – turn in the key, tell the person at the desk that she is going home, bound back out the door.

"Okay, I am ready!" she said as she came out the door. To an empty wall. "Wha… where are you?" she asked, breathless.

"I'm over here." He called out from across the street. She spun around, seeing him standing over the drunken man who had apparently passed out. "Oh, he is okay," he said as he saw the look of worry on her face as she came over to him. "He just got a bit too much bubbly, is all. Are you ready? That is not a whole lot of stuff." He indicated the bundle in her arms.

"Yeah, this is it. I told you, I travel light. Are _you_ ready?"

"He straightened his tie. "I, m'dear, " he drawled in a perfect Clark Gable, "Am always ready."

"Rhett Butler didn't say that. He said "I don't give a damn." I thought everyone knew that."

"Yeah, but, I do give a damn. So I couldn't say that. Besides," he turned his face towards her. "Was Rhett Butler ever as foxy as I am?"

She snorted. "Yeah, foxy… that's the word I would use. I was actually leaning toward labrador-y."

"Labrador-y?" he thought for a second. "Nah, definitely foxy."

"Whatever you say, Doctor."

They rounded the corner to see the Phone box. "This," he said triumphantly, "is my ship."

She raised her eyebrow. "yeah, you travel in a blue thing. Definitey Labrador-y."

"Pray tell, what would a foxy ship look like, then?"

She thought for a second. "Well, like the Millenium Falcon, I guess."

His turn to snort. "That thing? What a piece of junk. Now this is a ship, just trust me on it." He threw open the doors and led her in.

"Welcome to the Tardis, where we are kind of like Texas. Well, like, if Texas was stuck inside of, whats that little state you guys have? The tiny one that nobody cares about?"

She stared at the spacious interior, too overwhelmed to answer.

"I want to say Connecticut, but that is not right.. it is close to it, isn't it though? Like, right by it, slaunch wise…"

She spun around slowly still taking it in, and trying to verbalise what was going on in her mind.

"Uhh…. Wha… uh…"

"It's got that funny name… oh now this is going to bug me all day." He ran his fingers over his hair.

Her mind was still blank, and her jaw was still hanging slack. "Ooa…. errr…"

"THAT'S IT!" he yelled, "Rhode Island! Of course! Good thinking, Kierra." He clapped his hands in his excitement. The sound brought her back to earth, and she looked at him.

"How…?"

"Well, it is like I was saying. The Tardis, it is like sticking Texas inside of Rhode Island. Very simple when you think about it." He shook his head. "But trust me, Texas does not always appreciate it. Whooee… just try and suggest it and they fly off the handle. Never doing that again.

"Would you care for a tour?" He held his arm out to her. She numbly tucked her arm into his and just stood there. He puckered his lips in thought. "Riiight. Too alien. How about I make it more… you-ish?" He bounced off to the control pedestal in the middle, with her following behind. "Here." He sweeped his hand, showing off to her… a record player. "Betcha didn't see that there, did you?" she continued with the deer-in-the-headlights look. "Uhm, well," he started a little slower now, "see, I did not like cds as well. So I get everything in vinyl. Lovely stuff, that. But I also have it stored in the Tardis itself… somewhere. "He wrinkled his brow in thought. "Admittedly, there is a ton of memory here. So I have a ton of music from thousands of years worth of musicians… just have to find what you want. BUT," he smiled triumphantly, "I think I have exactly what we need riiiiight here." He pulled a disc out of the protective sleeve and held it gingerly as he placed it on the spindle and put the needle to it delicately. The crackling sound gave way to the first notes played in a piano lead in, and life returned to her face.

"Link it to the world, link it to yourself," Matthew Bellamy sang softly, "Stretch it out like a birth squeeze.."

She smiled. "Well, this is not my favorite Muse album, but it will do." Her smile faded as a thought occurred to her. "How did you get it on vinyl?"

"Ah! That is the mystery. But you may find that I have a lot of such mysteries. However, we have a tour to do. Shall we?" He picked the record player up and carried it with him, as the music kept playing. "Don't bother asking… its kind of complicated, even to me. Well, sort of complicated to me. Just…" He looked at her and worked his mouth like he was trying to form words. "Just…never mind." He looked down at his hands with the player clamped firmly in his fingers, and slowly bent forward to place it on the floor. "I do not like up there, it is too crowded. I like it somewhere else. But I was trying to make it more roomy in here for you, you see. When I found out you were coming and stuff. Look, here." He picked up the item that came to his attention. "For you. A magnetic beer coozie."

She took it from his hand. "A magnetic beer coozie? Oh, Doctor, you shouldn't have."

"I know. Now, for real, lets begin. Remember, no flash photography. And no candy. It makes things all sticky and," he rolled his shoulders while making a disgusted face "nasty." He started to bound off.

"Wait!" she yelled, and ran up to him, placing her arm in his again. "Now we can go. Lets see this Texas-inside-whatsitscalled, shall we?"

He grinned. He always loved having an audience.

"Space Dementia in your eyes and Peace will arise and tear us apart…" was heard coming from the unplugged record machine.

**Author's Note:** The thing with his shirt, I was not sure what would be so odd about his chest. So I decided to leave that to your imagination. In my mind though, he was pulling a Chandler Bing. Also, two chapters in one day! This is insanity! And the beer coozie. I wrote this late at night and I do not remember where I was going with that, but I decided that it had to stay. Because, hell, everyone needs a beer coozie. Also, they talk very slowly apparently, since we got through a six minute song, then a three minute one, and then a sizeable chunk of another one.


	6. This Chapter is Sixy

**Author's Note: **I liek pie. And Doctor's with self-image issues!

"…and this is the wardrobe!" He opened the door, popped in, she stuck her head into the doorway, and had time to pull it back before he popped back out and closed the door and bounced on. She sighed and made a mark on a piece of paper in her hand, and then rushed off after him.

A couple of hours later, they ended up in a living room of sorts. She was freshly bathed and wearing new clothes and sprawled across a leather loveseat, watching her host as he talked on and on about the Tardis itself. She would occasionally look down and work on her map she was making. She had given up on trying to get everything on it, but stuck to the rooms she would need. The kitchen, the main control room, the room where she was to sleep, the room they were currently in, she had all labeled. She tapped her chin and thought for a second.

"Hey, Doctor, I do not mean to interrupt…"

He cocked his head to the side. "Well, if you did not mean to, then why did you do it?"

She glared at him for a second, then continued. "It's just… where is the restroom again? I have lost it." She looked at her confused scribbles.

"The restroom?" he asked.

She made to throw a pillow at him but none came to hand, so she threw her pencil instead. He caught it and started twirling it in his fingers. She huffed angrily and crossed her arms. "Okay, I am _sorry_," she started. "I meant, where is the washroom. The toilet. The water closet. The whatever-the-hell-you-want-to-call-it."

He tapped the pencil against his cheek as he thought. "OH! You mean the restroom?"

She wadded up her map and threw it at his face. He chuckled and caught it, and flattened it out. "Well, that is your problem, this thing makes no sense. Let me try." He applied liberal amounts of eraser to the looseleaf and redrew some lines here and there. She was certain he was just messing with her some more, but a minute later he said 'done!' and handed the slightly wrinkled sheet back. Her mass of confusion was replaced by a nice and orderly layout that anyone could follow. She shook her head as she folded it up and put it in her pocket. "Showoff," she muttered to herself. He grinned but said nothing.

After a moment his ADD seemed to kick in again. He clapped his hands and said "Well! What do you want to do first?" She looked at him over the edge of the map.

"Uhm… what do you mean, exactly?"

He grinned. "Well, we can travel time and space! What do you want to do? Do you want to meet your great-great-grandchildren? Do you want to meet your Great-great-grandparents? Do you want to see what they are doing right now in Tokyo, or on a space station a million light years away? What do you want to do; do you want to meet the president of the galaxy, the first prime minister of a united Earth? Or would you like to go back and meet an old president? Or maybe we could…" he was interrupted by a rumbling noise.

"Could we find something to eat, maybe?" she asked.

"Of course! We can eat at any restaurant in existence! Just where do you want to go? What do you want to eat? Earth food? Martian? Or we could go exotic and eat at—"

"Could we have macaroni and cheese? I have not had any in months."

A pinched look crossed his face. "Macaroni? You could have the most expensive food in the universe, and your choice is cheap and boring food like macaroni?"

She thought for a second. "Yep."

He sighed and stood up, shaking his head. "Alright, well, I suppose. But I am _not_ making it out of the box. If we are going to do this we are going to do it right." He loosened his tie and walked out the door, muttering to himself. She heard 'macaroni, seriously?' before his voice and footsteps faded. She sat for a moment, then laughed, thinking of him boiling water and melting cheese. Suddenly, she heard from a distance, "ARE YOU COMING?"

"Yeah! I will be right there!"

"What?"

"I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!"

"Oh, right! Sorry!"

She stood up and shook her hair out of the towel she had wrapped around her head. She examined herself in the mirror, looking at her hair. He had not realized it was dyed, since she had not taken off her old hat until she had taken a shower, and had her hood pulled up most of the time anyway. She winced as she looked at the jet black hair that started at her temples down and the muddy blond that grew out of her roots. She sighed. "This was a bad idea. A very bad idea." She examined herself from another angle.

Well, at the time it was not such a disaster. Her regular hair color had no shine, nothing spectacular about it. She thought the jet would catch people's attention easier. So she saved her pennies, literally, and bought some permanent dye. And it worked at first, she caught many eyes, but when her roots started showing, she had to improvise. So enter the hat. She smiled wistfully at herself in the mirror. Her hat was at the bottom of a crumpled pile of dirty laundry that were sitting in the bathroom.

She examined herself for a second longer, then sighed. "Well, have to show him soon enough I suppose." She squared her shoulders, straightened out some rogue hairs on her head, and picked up her map, making her way to the kitchen.

He was working industriously with his back to her when she walked in. "hey, Doctor?" he grunted in response, something that took her by surprise. "Uhm… I will make the cheese sauce, if you like?"

He nodded his head, then said "No! Wait. I have already made that. But you could slice up these vegetables?" He half turned and indicated the tomatoes and cucumbers beside him, then turned back. She found a knife and started chopping them, finding carrots and broccoli as well. They worked in silence for a few minutes, before she started humming to herself. He looked up at the wall in front of him, a puzzled look on his face.

"Here comes, Dolllllly Dag-ger," she sang, emphasizing the first syllable in _Dagger." _Her love's so heavy, gonna make you stagger," getting into the song. "Dolly Dagger, she drinks her blood from a jagged edge!" she yelled the last word, then started dancing as she skipped to the "ooooOOOOoooo, yeah yeah yeah!" part.

He blinked a couple times as she continued dancing and singing, and thought 'what have I got myself into here?' but then he chuckled and continued with his task.

A few minutes later, she set the table and was trying to think of an appropriate Jimi Hendrix song for that task, when he placed the bowl of cooked macaroni and cheese beside the plate of vegetables and poured them both a glass of water. He pulled her chair out as she sat there suddenly silent, wondering what he was thinking, specifically what he was thinking about her hair. But he continued and sat down himself, putting his napkin in his lap and picking up his fork. After a second he looked up at her face, frozen as she anticipated his reaction. He looked around then asked, "Are you going to eat?"

"Uhm, yeah." She picked up her fork and helped herself. The first bite made her forget her nervousness temporarily. "This is excellent!"

He grinned. "I hoped you like it extra cheesy. Just like your jokes."

She wrinkled her nose. "Thanks, Doc."

His grin broadened. "Anytime."

After that they ate in silence for a few minutes. Afterwards he placed his fork on his plate and looked at her again. "Soo…"

She got really tense again. "Yes, I dyed my hair. I am sorry if it won't work for the time travel thing but I did it like months ago and so you couldn't really stop me, and…" she noticed the fleeting look of confusion that crossed his face, that was replaced by amusement.

He contined again, "So, did you like your meal?"

She stared at him in disbelief, then groaned. "Yeah, it was amazing. Simply to die for. The best food I have had since I left home." She ran her hand over her face.

He laughed at her embarrassment, dropped his napkin beside his plate, and stood up. "hey, do not sweat it. I saw it before."

She looked up at him sharply. "You did?"

He nodded. Of course I did. Hard to miss, isn't it?" she gaped, but he shrugged. "I was not so fooled by your hat, I guess. Glad to see though that it was not just dirt." He wrinkled his nose then laughed. She could not help but laugh herself. He indicated that they were to leave the room, and she followed. "Here I thought you were being vogue," he said offhandedly. "That look is so 27th century," he said in his best valley girl impression. She giggled into her hand. He looked back at her. "However, I am afraid you were right. If we travel back in time, you are going to stand out like a sore thumb. And we do not need to give frightened Europeans any more reason to burn us for witchcraft. So," he stopped suddenly, making her nearly collide with his back. "so, we could either cut your hair off at that length where your natural hair is growing out, or you could redye it. Thank goodness you picked a halfway natural color. However," He started moving again, then stopped again suddenly, when she really did run into him. "however, I do not think you should cut all that off, so I would suggest that we buy some dye the next time we set out. How does that sound?" He turned his head to look at her, rubbing her shoulder.

"I think it sounds great, Doctor Made-of-Stone. God, that was like running into a wall made of bricks and root canals. You would not think such a scrawny guy would have it in him." He pouted.

"I am not that scrawny, am I?" he examined himself.

"Uhm… of course not…" she said and looked at the wall as she rubbed her reddened chin, and followed him at a greater distance as they made their way back to the control room.


	7. Chapter Seven is the One for Me

She was sprawled across her bed, clutching a pillow to her chest, the blankets over her knees and her right foot dangling over the edge. She was dead to the universe and likely to stay that way until he burst through the door.

"GOOOOD MORNING!" he announced loudly and cheerfully, making her jump into a half-sitting position.

"My hair," she slurred as she ran her fingers through the tangled locks. She dropped her hand and squinted up at him, then threw the pillow at his face and lay back down, curled around another one.

She heard an umpfh as though it actually hit him in the face, and rolled back over, not sure if she could believe her ears. He had, for the first time that she could remember, not caught something that she threw at him. She sat up, curiosity leaking through as her mind registered what he had in his hands.

He set something down on the floor while pivoting on one foot, and flopping down beside her on the bed, keeping his left hand steady so he did not spill his gift…

"French toast!" she hooted happily. "It's about time for a bit of brekky," she said in her best Liverpudlian accent. He groaned.

"Come on, enough with the' Yellow Submarine' stuff. We are not going back for the premier again, especially not after you made such an impression on George Harrison…"

"Hey," she said defensively around a mouth full of toast. "It was not that big of a deal."

"You snogged the man behind his wife's back!"

"I did not! Pattie was not anywhere around!" she swallowed with a contemplative look on her face. "But that would explain why she threw that purse at me at the premier of 'Tommy.' Although she had no room to judge me, she was at that one with Eric Clapton." She giggled at the memory. "Ahh George… you will always be my favorite Beatle…" she held a fork with a piece of toast on it up to the ceiling.

"Yeah, well," the Doctor started, bringing her back to the present. "I popped out this morning for some business, while you were busy _sleeping_…" he said the last word pointedly. "And while I was out I got breakfast and this!" he picked up the large bag that he had set on the floor.

She mopped her plate for leftover syrup with the last bite, and set it aside. "And so this is… the new puppy I asked for?!?" she asked excitedly.

He gave her a look, then dumped the bag's contents on the bed. "No… it's all your mail that people sent to you since you dropped out of school." He made sure it was empty then set it on the floor. "Why on Earth would I put a dog in a bag, anyway? Who does that?"

She was pawing through the small pile of envelopes and boxes. "Bill, bill, bill, bill… check! Expired… bill… bill… magazine… magazine… bill… 'the second to last issue' magazine… 'the last issue' magazine… the 'actual last issue' magazine… the 'please reorder this magazine' magazine… bill…birthday card…'Congratulations on your new Baby'? Oh, wait, wrong address… phew, I was beginning to wonder… bill… bill…"

He held up a small box. "This one says it's from your mom."

She dropped the New Baby card into her lap, and took the box reluctantly. "Oh dear...well, let's see what she had to send." She opened the brown paper-wrapped check-box-sized package. "Oh look, it is actually a check box. Like literally, she ordered custom Tweety bird checks. Good to see she still has her brilliant sense of humor." She opened the lid. "I thought so," she flipped it over. "Empty. Just like her soul." She sighed.

He was not certain what to say, so looked at the smaller pile, when an expensive looking cream-coloured one caught his eye. "Hellloooo… looks like someone got married." He handed it to her.

"Oooh.. who was it, I wonder?" she looked at the front and frowned. "Jane Chara… funny, I don't remember her even dating anyone, like, ever. She pretty much kept to herself." She ripped open the outer envelope. "Well," she continued, "that and for a while, she pretty much lived at my house. So no time to date anyone." She popped open the sticker on the inner one. "And then after that we talked on the phone every night. Just like…" she read the invitation. "..Girlfriends."

He, with a look of confusion on his face, took the gaudily decorated piece of paper from her, and read out loud. "Mr. and Mrs. Don Chara and Mr. and Mrs. Frank Simmons wish to invite you to the wedding of Jane Chara and… Samantha Mehl." He dropped his hand and roared in laughter.

"I always thought she was a bit odd," she said, numbly. She crinkled her brow. "No wonder she took such offense when I yelled 'gay' at her."

He wiped his eyes as he stuffed the invitation back into the envelope. "How close where you to this Jane, anyway?"

She pushed her hair back behind her ear. "Oh, look, a Victoria's Secret catalog! That is good; I have been in need of some new bras."

He tilted his head to the side. "Oh really, that close, huh? Tell me, how often did she spend the night, did you say…?"

She paused for a second, then continued flipping through the catalog, muttering something unintelligible.

He thrust his neck out and held a hand up to his ear. "I'm sorry, I missed that, could you speak louder?"

She sighed and dropped the catalog to her lap. "Every weekend, alright? And minor holidays." He raised his eyebrows. She looked at a spot on the wall behind his back. "And… one Easter. But I swear," she tossed the catalog away from her and picked up a blue envelope that was beside her foot. "I had no idea. Except.." she paused as she was halfway through opening it.

"Except….?" he prodded.

"Although… her stepbrother did say once… but," her voice rose in pitch suddenly. "but she flat out denied it when I told her what he said, and I watched her, she beat him to a pulp with a playstation controller. He.. its…" she looked him in his eyes, pleading. "She couldn't… it couldn't.. he was lying, right?" she hugged her knees to her chest.

He moved closer to her and with a quiet, 'come here,' she laid her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her protectively. "It's okay," he said soothingly. "It can be quite a shock at first. But don't worry, I am sure she cared for you in the same way you cared for her." After a moment, he looked at her hands. "So, who is that from?"

She stirred. "What, this? I don't know, I didn't even look at the return address." She still had her left thumb stuck in the slit. "It says "Dillon Cooper. I don't know any Dillon Coopers from Kansas City, do I?" she thought for a second, then finished ripping into it.

He looked down inside it. "No white powder?"

She shook her head and pulled out the second envelope inside. "No, but it appears to be another wedding invitation. Great, I hope this is not another friend coming out, or I am going to cry." She opened it and started reading, then squealed. "My God!"

"What, what is it?" he asked, astounded at how fast her moods could change.

"It's from my actual real best friend from High School! Not the secret admirer one. Oh my goodness!" she was positively at a loss for words.

"This Dillon Cooper guy?"

"No, silly! Its my friend Misty. Misty Saunders. Her mom was a big Clint Eastwood fan, and she used to say that the night she conceived Mist, she had watched "Play Misty for Me." Kierra chuckled. "Her mom was a big doper. My mom wouldn't let me spend the night there."

"But she let the—"

"Yes, yes. Can we drop that now?"

He shook his head and grinned. "Never."

She frowned and hit him on the nose with the invitation, then resumed reading it. "It says here that it was on June Seventh." She looked up. "One thing you could say about Misty, she wasn't ever too imaginative. Probably had white and red as her colors, too." She looked back at the invite. "Say, Doctor, what day would it be if we were not, you know, traversing time and space, and I was still in my little hovel in Londontown?"

"Welll…" he thought for a second. "For you, I guess it would be …the thirteenth of August at 10:17:38 AM," he paused and looked at her. "Greenwich time."

"Oh, then we missed it," she said, pretending not to notice the data-overkill. A thought crossed her mind. "Hey Doctor, do you think..?"

He smiled. "We even have time to pick up a gift."


	8. Chapter Sevenish

"Here we are!" he opened the door and stepped out into the early summer morning.

"In the year Two Thousand!" she sang in a high falsetto. He turned and gave her a withering glare. "…give or take a few years..?" she amended, trying to hold the fake voice but cracking on the last word. She coughed. "Okay, so you are not a Conan O'brien fan, I see…" He shook his head and walked away.

"Anyway, as I was saying, Midwest United States, _**circa**_ 2000 A.D. and.."

She glanced at her watch. "and a couple of days before the wedding?"

"And **three** days before the wedding!" he smiled and put his hands on his hips. "God, I'm good!" He turned around. "So, what do we do first?"

"Well, we've got the gift in the Tardis, so all we have to do now is go meet people and stuff." She shrugged and smoothed her skirt. "How do I look?"

He smiled. "You look fine. Now come on, time is wasting away!" he bounded off.

"But you don't even know where you are going!" she yelled after him. He stopped and turned around.

"Of course I know where I'm going. I have the invitation right here… somewhere…" he patted his pockets. She held up the envelope and waved.

"You left it on the bench. Now come on, you are going the completely wrong direction. We need to go north, not west." She pointed to the heart of the city.

"We have to go through the city?" he asked.

"Yes, her address indicates that she lives in an apartment in the middle of the downtown district." She looked up and scanned the horizon. "No chance we can park closer, is there?"

He made a face as he turned back to the Tardis. She grinned and followed him.

"Here we are!" he said as he opened the door.

"In the year Two—" he glared at her, cutting her short. As he stepped out the door, she whispered "—Thousand!"

"I heard that!!" she rolled her eyes and sighed as she walked out and closed the door. He stood outside looking up and down the street.

She wandered to the street corner to look at the sign. "Well, we are about two blocks away now." She turned back to look at the Tardis. "So, we just leave it like that?"

"Yeah, sure, why not?" he asked. "Oh! Wait, no we don't!" he turned around and locked the door. "Now we are set."

"Uh huh… okay, if you say so, Doctor."

He grinned as they walked away.

She knocked on the apartment door and then stepped back, adjusting her clothes and hair.

"COMING!" a voice yelled from inside.

He looked at her with an arched eyebrow. She paused with her fingers in her hair. "What?" she asked.

"Ooh..nothing." he pursed his lips and looked away, examining the woodwork.

She was looking at him when a high pitched squeal issued from the other side of the door. "_Kierra!"_

Kierra squealed in response. "_Misty!!"_

He stood back as the door opened and watched the show. One second there was one early twenty-something girl in the hallway, and a second later there were two, both screaming and bouncing, alternating hugging and holding each other at arms length, repeating "Oh my GOD! Oh my _GOD!!" _

"It is so great to see you! I had no idea you were coming!" Misty said after a few minutes of loud reunion. Kierra and Misty were seated on the couch as the Doctor, largely ignored, took up examining the woodwork on the inside of the apartment.

"I know, I should have RSVP'ed, but I wanted it to be a surprise." She thought of the card that was stuck in his jacket that clearly stated 'please respond by April 24th.' She laughed. "If you would like, I could go and hop into my time machine, go back, and respond?" He gave her a sharp look.

"Oh, it is alright," Misty began, not noticing the frown. "Dillon has some crazy family that have decided that the planets are not in the right alignment for a wedding at this time, and are boycotting it since we refused to reschedule it for January 27th, 2015." The Doctor chuckled quietly across the room. Misty looked at Kierra. "I am just so glad that you came. Although, admittedly, your friend …"

"Oh, don't mind him. That's how he always is."

He popped up, sonic screwdriver in hand. "You have mice."

Misty sighed. "Yeah, I know. The landlord won't do anything, either. "

He stuck out his hand. "Hi, I'm the Doctor." She shook it limply, managing a 'uh…' before he continued. "Well, what I should say is, you had a mouse problem, but I found their hole and now they can't get in through there. So now your neighbors have a mouse problem."

She still looked confused. "Uh… thanks, Doctor…..?"

Kierra stepped in. "Just the Doctor." She looked at him and grinned. "Ph.D."

He shook his head in exasperation. "Just the Doctor, minus Ph.D."

She looked away from him. "Whatever you say." She mouthed to her friend, "Ph.D."

Misty was thoroughly confused. "I think, Kierra, that you have spent too much time away from home. You make absolutely no sense anymore. Which is pretty impressive, since you made very little sense before." She looked concerned. "How is everything? I have not heard from you in ages. I thought for sure that you did not get my invitation."

Kierra sighed, a somber look on her face. "I'm sorry for not writing back or anything. Life has been…" she trailed off, thinking about what life actually _had_ been.

Misty nodded and patted her hand. "I know what you mean. Things have not gone how I expected them to. I wanted to go to school and become a lawyer. Now," she waved her hand, "I am marrying a guy I have known my whole life, ready to settle down and start a family. It is funny how things change."

Kierra froze with a worried look on her face. "What do you mean, a guy you have known all your life? Misty Saunders, I have known you since the day you started 2nd grade and you dropped your juicebox on the floor, you were so nervous. I thought I knew everyone you knew."

She laughed. "Oh, Kierra, you are so funny, making up that juicebox story like that. Of course that never happened…" she looked at a spot behind Kierra. After a moment she shook her head and looked back at her friend. "Don't tell Dillon that, okay? He would never let it go."

"Dillon Cooper is his name? I don't remember…oh." Kierra's eyes got big. "You mean that beanpole of a guy who was in our Chemistry class? The one who let you copy off his notes because you showed him your bra strap?"

Misty looked at her. "Ah, no… I don't know who you are talking about with that one… but no, no, this guy and his family went to my dad's church, you surely remember?"

Kierra snorted. "Well, I should remember better than you. Your father, the pastor, saw more of me on Sunday mornings than he did of you."

Misty gasped in mock anger. "He did not! Besides, it was only that one summer.."

"Yeah, that summer when Viktor was here from Poland."

"Now that is not fair. You know he had beautiful hair."

Kierra laughed. "Yeah, and he could hold his liquor," she said in a conspiratory tone to the Doctor. Misty threw a pillow at her.

"I see where she gets her love of throwing things," he said. They both threw pillows at him. "Hey, hey!" he yelled, throwing his hands into the air.

As Misty handed them their drinks, she asked, "So, you heard about the big blow out wedding we had a couple weeks ago?"

Kierra choked on her drink. "What?" she gasped. "Jane's wedding, you mean?" the Doctor patted her back.

"Ah, I figured that you might have," Misty smiled over her own glass. "It was quite fun, actually. I drove up for it. Big deal. Do you know what they did, though? I mean the wedding was outrageous enough, but the names were the real mess." Kierra creased her brow in confusion. "You haven't heard, then? Well," Misty put down her glass on the table." Jane and Samantha are madly in love, of course, but they both got those strange last names. Samantha has the name of her father that she never knew and Jane says everyone thinks she is coughing when she says hers. Well, to hear them explain it, they were out partying one night, and came up with the idea of combining their names together."

The Doctor chuckled. "I don't get it," Kierra said flatly.

"Say it out loud to yourself."

"Jane and Samantha MehlChara?"

"No, silly," Misty rolled her eyes. "The other way around."

"Samantha and Jane MehlChara?"

"No! Now your British guy got it, why can't you? I think you have done toked your brains away, girl."

She sat there, then put her hand to her mouth, stifling a giggle. "Now you got it," The Doctor said.

"Jane and Samantha Charamehl. Mrs. and Mrs. Caramel. Oh, that is…something…" she shook her head.

"I heard someone say they were going to adopt a boy and name him Reese."

"Now that's rich."

"Yeah, I know! They should get a girl and name her… uhm… name her some other candy."

"Oh, ever the clever girl, Mist."

"Yeah, I know, Kier."

The Doctor emptied his glass and stood up stretching.

"Going already, guys?" Kierra asked, panic belying her calm demeanor.

Kierra went to her side. "Well…"

Misty balled up the hem of her shirt. "It is just that, well, Dad, he has gone all God on me and will not let Dillon stay here until after the wedding." She rolled her eyes. "And my sister is supposed to be coming over, but shes.. indisposed by this time." She mimed someone drinking.

"Yeah, your sister was always the worst." She stopped and thought. "Hey, Doctor, do you mind… like, Misty? I could stay with you if you like. He can go back to our hotel and I can stay with you. Oh, it could be like old time, when we used to stay up all night watching "Back to the Future" and saying how Fox was so Foxy. What do you say, Doctor?"

He was puzzling over how Michael J. Fox could ever be called foxy. "Uhm, you know, that sounds like a great idea, actually. Go ahead, and I shall go to the hotel. Have fun girls, I will show myself out." He waved and closed the door, obviously happy to be free of the two chatty women.

After they heard him go down the stairs, Misty turned to Kierra, worry on her face. "Whats that—"

"Shush. He has excellent hearing."

"That good though?"

"I want to play it safe."

They waited a few seconds longer, then she heard off in the distance the familiar _thorp thorp. _"Hey, he left me_," _she said, and huffed.

"Kierra, what is going on? When did we ever stay up all night watching "Back to the Future?"

"I know, I know, I had to come up with something quickly, and Time Travel was what came to mind."

"Is there something you need? What don't you want him to know?"

Kierra thought for a second, looking at her hands. "Do you have the number to Rent-a-car?" She lifted her head, tears in her eyes. "I need to see Brendon."_  
_


	9. Chapter Seven once again

"Here are your keys. Have a nice trip, ma'am," the man behind the desk smiled as he held out his hand.

She half turned and was almost out of her seat before she realized he was trying to shake her hand. She wondered if she should shake his hand, or if he noticed that she did not register what he was doing. She stuck her hand out then pulled it back in quickly, then out and back in, and stuck it in her pocket, running out of the room. She went back a second later, took the keys, mumbled a half-hearted apology, and ran back out, head down.

As she fumbled for the keyless remote, she wondered if he was Asian or Middle Eastern. She really couldn't remember now. Hopefully he just thought she was rude and not racist. She clicked the unlock button, looking around the small parking lot. The interior lights in a car a couple of rows away came on, and she sighed in relief, her paranoid brain worrying that she would have to go back inside and ask where her car was.

She hopped in and automatically hit the lock switch, grabbed her seat belt, and clipped it, all in one smooth motion. Then she realized what she was doing and nearly dropped her keys in the floorboard, stuck the key partly into the ignition then actually dropped it when she tried to turn it, and accidently threw it into drive instead of reverse. She slammed her foot on the break a split second before she smoked the front grill of the sport utility vehicle in the space before her, and rested her forehead on the steering wheel.

"What am I doing?" she asked herself out loud. "Am I really running away from the man who has the ability to meet my parents before I was born and convince them to not have me?" She smacked her head against the horn, making it sound. After a moment she sighed and lifted her head, backed out of the space, and drove calmly and slowly out of the parking lot, waiting until she got to the freeway and the open road to slam the sixty-five mile per hour speed limit.

Her statement had bugged him all the way down the stairs and down the street. By the time he got to the Tardis he was nearly running, and he bounded up the ramp in a few steps. His fingers flew over a keyboard as he muttered to himself. The screen loaded and he cursed humans and their search engines.

**Did you mean **_**Michael **_**Fox**_**?**_

He smacked his forehead and ran his hand down his face, pulling his lips down comically, and cursing himself quietly. "Humans and their impossible spelling!" he growled as he deleted 'Micheal' from the dialog box and tried again. He spent a few moments scanning the results, images only, shaking his head. A scrawny young guy in a vest. An older sickly man. A balding fat guy who is in realty. He made a face. He did not need to see the realtor's picture to know that this was a stupid quest. Three pages in finally resulted in pictures of 'Back to the Future' and he grimaced at the leather jacket and haircut.

'Definitely not foxy', he thought.

So why did she try to throw him off? It was a little thing, he knew, but it was still something, and it was irritating him. Like when someone keeps walking when their shoe laces were untied, or when the weatherman repeatedly mispronounces humidity. He walked away from the controls, and dug into his pocket, looking for his primitive cellular device.

'_What have you got there?' he asked, while she was digging through a bag of stuff. _

"_Oh, just things I had in the lock box. An old ring, some photos, my old phone… just things."_

_He grabbed the phone. "Does it work?"_

"_The Phone? Sure, if you pay the bill. That is my Molly Brown."_

"_Molly Brown? You named your phone… Molly Brown?"_

"_Sure."_

"…_why…?"_

"_Because I name everything. And I was thrown into a pool with that in my pocket, but after letting it dry out a few days it still worked. So, I decided it was unsinkable so I named it after-"_

"_The Unsinkable Molly Brown."_

"_Yeah!" she looked sheepish. "I'm a bit of a nerd."_

_He gave her a wide-eyed look. "NO! You're kidding!"_

_She smacked his arm. "Hey, that is no way to treat your host!" he said as he pulled his screwdriver out of his pocket. He ran it over the surface of the plain flip phone and it lit up. After a couple seconds he seemed satisfied and tossed it back to her. "There, all fixed now." She arched an eyebrow._

"_Fixed? Is my phone now incapable of having puppies?"_

He blinked, back in the present, and sighed, dialed her number, and called.

"Come on tell me, who are you?" Roger Daltrey growled as Pete Townshend echoed 'who who? Who who?" afterwards. She about jumped out of her skin when the silence in her car was shattered by what had been at one time the loudest band on earth. She picked up the phone and read the display. THE DOCTOR. "Oooh, who the f- " the phone was cut off as she hit the ignore key and tossed the phone into the passenger seat. She twitched, then after a moment snorted. "At least the song wasn't "I Can See for Miles," she mused nervously.

He grumbled as the phone stopped ringing. "She ignored my call. This is serious." He started to pace, tapping the phone against his chin. A thought occurred to him, and he ran into the back, going toward her room. It was exactly how she had left it that morning. Clothes were hanging off of every available surface, numerous paperbacks and glass bottles on the headboard, and the stack of mail on the bed. He rummaged through the stack self consciously, until something on the floor caught his eye. He bent down to pick up a pair of jeans. The checkbox from her mother laid there, the lid open and the scrawled message across the top lid showing. He had not noticed it the first time, and she probably didn't herself, right away. He picked it up, read the angry drunken words, and crumpled the box in his fist. He turned and ran back out of the room, out of the door of the Tardis, and back to the apartment building.

"Why, Doctor, I was not expecting you!" Misty answered, the hospitality barely covering her panic at the sight of the man outside her door. "Ho-how can I help you?"

He wordlessly handed her the crumpled box, which she took gingerly, seeing the anger on his face and in the set of his jaw. She read it and felt her teeth go on edge. "That heartless cold-blooded bitch." She looked off into space.

"Yes, that part is obvious. But right now instead of losing your temper, I need your help."

She nodded her head. "I suppose she hasn't told you much about herself, has she?"

"I know her mother apparently drinks too much."

She grimaced. "Yeah, to say the least." She chewed her lip.

He looked at her levelly. "Where has she gone?"

She sighed, than explained.

"Is that all? I was expecting something more… grandiose, actually."

She flared instantly into anger. "Sorry that our lives are not interesting enough for you, Doctor," she emphasized the last word. "But that is what she is doing. If you want to find her, you better get driving, fast. Goodnight." She closed the door, but not before he was halfway down the stairs.

**Author's note: **So the flashback is kind of stuck in there haphazardly, so do forgive me. And I debated whither I should switch the two songs around. And yes, this is getting kind of long. It started out as a simple little idea and voom, there we go. But I think I have decided to make this my only Doctor Who fanfiction and want to get all my ideas in. Maybe it is just a season all in itself? I donno. Whatev. Oh, and my super-behind self just finally saw the end of Series 4 this morning. But I have decided for certain that this is before Donna and after Martha. I am 98% certain. Ish. Anyway,onward!


	10. The Seventh Chapter will not die

The clock on the dash, and her aching knees told her that she had drove all night. She rubbed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair, making a face. She sighed and opened the door, stepping out into the cool early morning air.

He opened the door and looked around, getting his bearings. The crickets and cicadas were nearly unbearably loud and off to his right was a small creek with a chorus of bullfrogs. He stepped out onto the crushed gravel road, and walked along, the ditch going from overgrown brambles to a neatly mowed slope. The clouds overhead rolled, partly obscuring the waxing moon above. But he was able to make out a small country church and various headstones arranged around it in uneven lines. He opened a small gate and walked past old crumbling stones. Down the hill leading toward the creek were newer ones, and rounding the corner, partly obscured by a large maple tree, he saw his companion, hunched over.

"I knew you would find me. You really can see for miles and miles." Kierra wiped her eyes on her sleeve and stood up. He walked up quietly beside her and followed her gaze to the temporary marker. 'Brendon Lyle James' was stenciled across the aluminum marker, along with his birth and death dates. She cleared her throat. "Mom, she is so cheap, he has been dead for months and still has not gotten a proper headstone for him."

He looked at her as she cupped her nose. She stared off into the woods, then looked at him. "Kierra?" he asked softly.

She bowed her head, tears splashing on her shoes. They stood in silence, then suddenly she sighed. "I used to call him Brenda. Annoyed him to hell. 'Bren-dah' I used to taunt. 'Bren-dah, your toy tractor is stoooopid and you smell.'" She hiccupped a laugh. "I was not too imaginative with my insults." She toed a dandelion head at her feet. "He was my best friend though, when we were in a new school and I was wandering around alone and lost, he would find me and make sure I got to where I needed to be. He was the best older brother, and I was utterly lost when he went off to college." She choked on a sob. The Doctor pulled her into an embrace and they just stood together for what felt like an eternity. "You better?" he asked, and she nodded her head slowly. "Are you sure? You are really warm." She sighed.

"You are just trying to distract me."

"Yes. Is it working?"

"No."

"Gooo-wait. No? Oh." She looked back at the grave. "So…" he started in a gentler tone. "What happened to him?" She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder, eyes closed.

"I would like to know myself. " He handed her a handkerchief. "It has been something of a mystery," she continued after blowing her nose. "A very bad mystery, in fact." She tried to hand it back to him but a barely perceptible grimace across his features told her to keep it. She sighed and continued, talking faster now. "Brendon was a genius. Like, he was the smartest person I ever knew. You remind me of him, actually, and you always have. Is that strange? I suppose it might be. But he was always talking about this scientific discovery or that medical breakthrough… and it was inspiring instead of being annoying. I could listen to him talk for hours about the oddest topic and not be tired. He was just that charismatic." She ran her fingers through her hair. "He went to college and was a total chick magnet. He was handsome and smart, and he would come home and tell me about the crazy plots these hormone driven wives-to-be would come up with. I came to London and I told him about the wild parties and he would get all mock-angry at me for not studying hard enough. Then he would tell me about how he finally figured out how to balance this one tricky equation and I would get angry at him for not partying hard enough. It was all in good fun.

"But one day, I remember it well. I woke up in the bathtub to the phone ringing. I knew it was bad since the ring just sounded urgent, somehow." She laughed. "Isn't it funny how that works? You can tell the difference between if it is just Susan telling you that she moved in with John again and when your mom calls to tell you that your brother has been murdered in the park." She had been backing up slowly and suddenly hit the headstone behind her, sitting down hard. She lifted her eyes to his worried face. "He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time," she said slowly. "Got killed by some random guy who ran off, and nobody knows who it was. The police did an investigation, but the other person who was there did not see the murderer and said he did not know him. The case went cold, we got no closure, and mom hit the bottle," she said bitterly. "She and I hadn't got along well anyway. When I left we were not exactly on the best of terms. Then when he died she just flipped out, and started blaming it on me. Like I killed him with my own hands." She scratched her neck. "That's when I went downhill, of course. Who could handle that?"

He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out the crushed box, handing it to her as he sat down on the ground in front of her, ignoring the dewed grass. "Is this what caused all of this?"

She took it from him gingerly. "You killed my only child" she read aloud, tears thickening her voice again. She dropped the box on the ground. "She always liked to remind me that she did not want me, but that my father wanted Brendon to have a sibling to grow up with. They moved a lot and he wanted for him to have a permanent friend and peer, and I needed a home. She adored him, and hated that he adored me instead of mother dearest." She swallowed and pointed at the box. "When I got that, that was the first time I had to think about home and everything like that since I met you. And I thought," her voice rose suddenly, "what if?" she slid to the ground and looked him in the eyes, getting in his face. "Doctor, I know that I cannot go back and save him, I understand that. But what if… what if things had happened differently? What would life be like now? I need to know, Doctor. I need answers!" she grabbed his shoulders. "I need my life to make sense, I need Brendon, I need—" her voice cracked and she rocked back on her heels, reacting to the blank look on his face. "I need to get out of here," she gasped as she rose to her feet and ran off.

He watched her as she made her way, bleary eyed and sobbing, through the headstones. He rose silently to his feet and followed, catching her quickly. He grasped her arm, and she turned on him, trying to hit him. He held her arms as she raged, then suddenly all fight left her and she crumpled against him, crying. He led her to the Tardis, to her bed, gave her a glass of something to drink, and walked back out, without saying a word. She meekly followed his lead, the look on her face filling her with dread. She realized she had demanded of him something he wouldn't do, and was suddenly scared of him, much more scared than she had been hours before. She sat on the edge of the bed, wondering what was going to happen, when fatigue settled on her, and she laid down, falling into an uneasy sleep, where hard brown eyes glared at her all through her dreams.

She awoke with a start, to him standing in the doorway, a bowl of frosted flakes in one hand and a small carton of milk in the other. "Here we go… thought you would like some good old cold cereal," he said lightly.

She took the bowl tentatively, and watched warily as he produced a spoon from his breast pocket. She ate the cereal quietly as he sat beside her, adjusting his tie and humming to himself. She thought she recognized the tune, but was not certain until he growled " 'cause every girl crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man!' then broke out into air guitar. She wondered how they covered his lobotomy stitches so well when he got to the second verse he looked her way and suddenly trailed off. She put the bowl aside and started to get out of bed, when he cleared his throat.

"Listen… I've got something I need to tell you." He creased his brow. "I've got to go. Just for a few days though!" he clarified, seeing the look of panic that crossed her face. "I have this thing I have to do, and it is urgent. You have this wedding to get ready for, and I think your friend would dearly love someone new to worry with. I imagine her friends and family are about to lose their minds. You should stay here with her, and take care of her for her big day. Do not worry, I will be back in time for the wedding itself. I promise." He stood up and leaned down, kissed her forehead, then walked out.

She gaped until he popped his back in the door "So, if you could get ready, that would be very helpful." She jumped and dressed quickly, running things over in her mind.


	11. Chapter 11 HA! Fooled you!

"Oh my- oh--- oh my---GOD!

Kierra sighed, wrapped the towel around her hair, and stuck her head out the bathroom door.

"What is wrong now, Misty?"

"EVERYTHING!" the woman yelled, and barged into the bathroom, making Kierra scramble.

"What is the matter? It's your wedding day!" she tired to comfort her friend, but only succeeded in making her cry harder. She sobbed something, but Kierra could not understand what she said. After threatening to dunk her head in the toilet, the hysterical woman finally calmed down.

"M-my sister… my maid of honor… she f-f-fell down the stairs!"

"Oh my God! Is she alright?"

"Of course she is alright, she was too drunk to notice, but she b-b-br-roke her wrist and now I have n-n-no-" she broke down into tears again.

Kierra stopped, not certain what to say. "She got wasted the night before your wedding?" Misty shook her head furiously. Kierra looked at her sharply, then her jaw dropped. "She got wasted this morning?!" Misty nodded bleakly then broke into renewed tears. Kierra scooped her into a hug. "It will be alright, I promise. Okay, you hear me? It will be alright!"

Misty choked back a sob, then said tearfully, "are you… naked?" Kierra scowled then felt embarrassed. "No… I've got my foundation garments on." She stamped her foot. "But that is not the point! What size is your sister?"

"Well, she weighs 120 pounds and is 5 feet 10… why?" her eyes grew large and round. "Are you saying… but you could never… would you?"

Kierra pulled on a tshirt, a resolute look on her face. "Your aunt Darla, she is a seamstress still?" she grasped her friends hands. "I will be your maid of honor, even if they have to sew me into the dress." Misty screamed and tackled her, nearly knocking her to the floor. 'Oh, dear heavens, what have I got myself into now?' she thought.

Several hours and tear-filled thank yous later, she stood in front of the crowd, barely breathing, afraid the tight red death contraption she was wearing would explode at any second, and scanned the faces, looking for him. When the music started she gave up, and concentrated on what bridesmaids always did in the movies. Hopefully not very much, since she realized she could not think of a single movie about bridesmaids. She smiled and panicked inside as the service wore on.

She plopped herself down at the bar, three hours later, and asked for something, anything, as long as it was adult in nature. She thought bleakly about the hour long service and then the hour spent taking pictures and it made her head hurt. Underneath the weariness she felt a small note of fear in the back of her mind as the thought occurred to her- maybe he was not coming back? Maybe she had really offended him and he decided to leave for good? She had some abandonment issues, to say the least. She took the shot glass and downed it, wincing as it tore through her.

"You better slow down, you are going to be drunk on the floor before the cake is even served."

She whipped around as fast as she could and caught herself as she wobbled slightly. "Doctor! Oh am I glad to see you. I was so worried I could hardly eat my prime rib. But then, I am wearing a dress that is two sizes too small, that didn't really help, either," she said as she gave him a hug. She then held him at arms length, looking him over for any obvious signs of injury.

"Do I pass the physical?" he asked lightly and grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. She smiled back, and let go of a breath she had not been aware of holding. "Ah, I have something for you… would you like to read it?" He partly pulled something out of his inner jacket pocket. "Or should it wai-Oh!" he said as she tried to take it out of his hand. "Patience is a virtue, you know," he tutted.

"Yeah, and reciting tired clichés is a pain in the ass, so give it to me already." He handed it over without further argument. It was a newspaper, the ink still warm and slightly smeary. She almost asked why she would want a smalltown paper when a headline on the side caught her eye. "One man killed on College campus, Suspect apprehended," she read aloud, looking up at him.

"Go on, read it."

"At 12:38 last night, Brendon L. James, 21, was walking to his dorm on the campus of ISU, when he came across two men, one Patton S. Garvey, 25, and Sean T. Briggs, 19. Garvey, a repeat offender for Methamphetamine use, attacked Briggs while under the influence. Briggs, in his official statement to the police, claimed he never met him before. James, another stranger, was simply 'in the wrong place at the wrong time' Briggs stated to the cops. 'He did not know me, but he saw I was in trouble, and I was going to get hurt or killed by this (explicative) guy and he just stepped in and saved me.' James fought off Garvey, and while doing so, was wounded and pronounced dead by paramedics. Garvey attempted to flee the scene, but was apprehended by a FBI agent who happened to be nearby, tracking down a money laundering ring."

She stopped reading and looked up. The Doctor pulled out his psychic paper and flashed it in her face. "Agent John Smith, FBI."

She looked skeptical. "But what about the accent?"

He looked down and mock-yelled "Get me some ketchup for my fries, STAT!"

She shook her head and continued reading. "Garvey is being held without bail in the Des Moines city jail, awaiting his court date. People have already started gathering in the park to mourn the fallen hero, Brendon James." She looked up from the paper and gaped at the wall.

He took her hands, forcing her attention back to him. "You said you needed to know. Well, now you do. Your brother, your anchor, died a hero, trying to protect someone he never even know. Now that," he said, brightly, "is the best legacy anyone could have."

A thought occurred to her. "But Doctor, if you went back… if you had changed it, which I know you wouldn't have done… but if you had… would this Sean guy have died in his place?"

The Doctor pursed his lips. "Probably," he admitted. "but do you realize who he is?"

"Who, Sean Briggs? No, the name… well… it is kind of familiar, now that you mention it."

"It should be. Sean Briggs is an important man, and millions of people owe their lives to him." He nodded his head towards the people around them. "Before that night he admits that he was at school just for a good time, but after he had your brother die in front of his eyes, he vowed to change. He is working on it now, which is getting him some attention, but in a few short years he makes a breakthrough. " He grabbed a vial from his pocket. "This, Kierra, is a modern miracle. A small amount administered to a wound causes almost instantaneous cauterization, and keeps from losing more blood, and reduces the chances of people sliding into shock to nearly zero." He stopped, concentrating on the bottle, then tucked it into his pocket. "But for the life of me I cannot remember what he decides to call it."

She could not help it, she laughed. She grabbed his arm and while still giggling, she led him to the dance floor, eyes on his face. "Come on, Doctor, let's dance, just once." She listened to the music. "See, we should, this is a good song to dance to."

He looked skeptical. "It is Fleetwood Mac."

"So? So what if the DJ is kind of… unorthodox. It is still a good song."

"I think Misty's mother must have hired him."

"I think that is actually Misty's Dad."

"Oh. Handsome man. Nice Beard thing." The Doctor stroked an invisible beard. "Very… bushy. Very…yeah."

She burst out laughing, then stopped, a look of horror on her face. "Uh, Doctor… maybe dancing isn't such a good idea." He looked at her questioningly, then his eyes widened as she turned around slowly.

"Uhm, how much did that dress cost, again?" He asked as he shrugged of his jacket and threw it around her shoulders.

"I don't know, and I don't want to find out!" she yelled as they ran for the door, heading for the safety of the Tardis.

**Author's Note:** Purely by coincidence did I pick the name Brendon. I had not as yet seen "Secret Smile" and so did not know that David Tennant's character was named Brendan. Just one of those strange things that happens, I guess. And also, in case you were wondering, I got the name Cooper from a guy I went to school with, and not from Gwen Cooper of Torchwood Three. Just so you know. But you can't judge me, there are about a thousand people named Jones in the Whoniverse. So there!


	12. Is it spelt Twelfth or Twelvth?

The radio blared the newest Seether song through the ancient puny speakers.

"Turn it up! I can hardly hear it!" yelled someone from the back.

"What?" yelled the youth in the passenger seat. "I can't hear you over the radio!"

"Your radio SUCKS!"replied the voice petulantly. "And so does the back seat!"

"SCREW YOU!" yelled the driver as she slammed on the breaks while going around a particularly sharp curve.

Everyone screamed as they flew to the right. "FUCK!!" yelled the teenage girl beside the driver.

The driver turned toward her best friend and screamed, "FUCK YEAH!" then slammed on the gas.

"Can I get out now?" a shaky male voice asked when they were back on the straightaway.

"Come on Liam, where is your sense of wonder? Where is your passion?"

"I think I lost it back at the stop sign." He replied weakly.

The driver cocked her head. "Stop sign?"

He groaned and put his hands over his face. He had been completely happy about staying at home tonight, working on his research paper for Econ, but when your friends come and forcibly drag you out of your house, you do not have much choice in the matter.

She looked back at him in the review mirror. "Oh, cheer up. Come on, this will be a night to remember! Could you open this for me?" she asked the girl beside her, her best friend, and handed her the unopened can.

She felt hands grab her shoulders from behind. "_Do not take your eyes off the road_!" Liam yelled.

"Hey! Chill man! I am in total control of this baby! Calm down! Gawd, where's my drink?"

The two people stood near the police box in the ditch beside a narrow country road.

"Come on, they should be going by any moment now! Oh this is so exciting!" Kierra bounced excitedly.

The Doctor looked at his shoes. "Do I want to know what is living in this ditchwater?" he mumbled to himself.

She frowned at him. "Ah, Doc, this is important to me, please try to be more cheerful."

He crossed his arms on his chest and pursed his lips. "No. I do not condone this behavior and I cannot believe you convinced me to indulge you in this."

She sighed and rolled his eyes. "Doctor, I am not asking you to change history. I just wanted to see it again. I mean it is not every day that you get to see the first drag race that you ever had, is it?" She clapped her hands. "Oh, it is just so exciting! I can almost picture it!" She swept her hand towards the south where the road entered some small hills covered in cornfields. "There I was, driving, minding my own business, when all of a sudden!" she swept her arms suddenly toward the north and made a loud 'zoooooom!" sound. "Out of nowhere, a late model car drove by. A woman tried to pass us! And Diane, she being the competitive girl she was, yelled "You can't let her do that man!" And so I slammed on the gas, threw it into fourth gear, and away we went!" she yelled the last word, caught up in her memory of the event four years before. "And that guy, he was in the passenger seat, he was yelling and throwing his arms around, obviously angry that we were beating them." She sighed. "And then finally she gave up and we flew out of there, all of us excited out of our little minds!" she giggled.

"Riiiiiiiight," he said flatly. "Well that is great and all, but where are the contestants in this sad little game?" he looked up and down the road. "Everything seems rather quiet here."

"Well, we met them here, I remember, because we were right by that hog confinement there when we finally lost them." She pointed a half mile up the road. "Unfortunately none of us knew exactly the time. I just know it was 2:35 when we had to pull over and let Misty puke. I had got a text message from my brother then telling me that Mom said I was to be in that bed by 3 or she was going to call the cops on me. I was half a county away then, but guess what?" she elbowed him in the ribs. "We made it!"

She was giggling when he snapped his head toward the south. "Did you hear that?" he asked, making all signs of a smile disappear off her face.

"What is it Doctor?" she asked, anxiously, knowing that he was not just trying to get her to shut up about her past conquests. He took off running. "Hey, why don't we take the TARDIS?" she yelled at him, running to catch up to him.

"Because!" he yelled over his shoulder, which caused him to swerve to the side. "I can't explain right now! I think we have only got a mile or so to go! Come on!" he grabbed her wrist and dragged her, running as hard as she could.

"What the f—" she started, but a sharp glance from him made her stop.

"You know I don't like language like that."

"Well, I am sorry, but I kind of could not help it. I just ran two miles to get to a car accident that should not have happened!" she threw her hands up in the air. In front of them, in the ditch, rested a twisted hunk of metal that may at one time have been a vehicle, but was now a shapeless mass wrapped around a telephone pole. "Doctor," she started anxiously, grabbing his arm, "this did not happen. This is not supposed to happen!"

"Oh, I do not know. Young people out cruising at this time on a Friday night, looking for trouble…"

"Doctor!" she yelled, exasperation on her face. "I know that this did not happen! I was there, and I surely do not remember wrecking _that_—" she pointed at the slightly smoldering wreck across the road from them, "—my father's newly restored 1969 Ford Mustang Coupe!"

He shook his head. "Maybe you forgot?"

She gasped in anger. "You think I forgot about wrecking a car? A car that my father rebuilt with his own hands? Are you kidding me!" He shrugged.

"I think that there are worse things to worry about right now. A moving vehicle violation and an angry father is the least of your worries." He pointed at something in the middle of the road. Her eyes followed, and she gasped, a hand over her mouth. The unmistakable shape of an occupied body bag on a stretcher was being loaded into the back of an ambulance, with nervous looking sheriff deputies standing around. She turned back to him sharply.

"Don't you see? This is not supposed to happen! Who would be out here on the road at this time of night? Who would be on this road at any time!" she swung her arms around, indicating the miles of corn and soybeans that stretched in every direction. But he was still not convinced. She was about to continue her argument when a loud keening sound started from the direction of the smashed vehicle. She turned slowly and looked at the firefighters with apprehension. "Doctor…" she started, and they moved at the same time.

He flashed his psychic paper. "Sorry I am late, I was watching the game. What happened here?"

The deputy in front of him blinked, then started mechanically. "Uhm, sorry lieutenant. The usual, teenagers out for a joyride, hit a pedestrian, crashed. The pedestrian though…" the cop shivered. "He must have been hit pretty hard, I have never seen anyone that messed up in all my years."

The Doctor gave him a look. "How messed up? Can I see?"

"Of course, sir. Right this way." He led the Doctor to the ambulance.

She screamed. "DOCTOR!" he snapped his head toward her, seeing her rigid body standing on the shoulder of the road, looking down at the firefighters who had just finished hauling four bodies out of the wreckage. "DOCTOR!" she screamed again, then fainted. He rushed to her, holding her in his arms. She came to, screaming and crying.

"Shush, shush," he said quietly, and held her to his chest. "I believe you. This is not supposed to happen. I believe you." He looked down at the dead teenage Kierra with staring eyes and mouth open in a last scream of horror.

**Author's Note: **here begins the senseless violence. Long live morbid people!


End file.
